


To Have and To Hold

by Magnetism_bind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Tywin doesn't die, and still wants Jaime to get married. He doesn't much care who his son marries as long as she's high-born and of child-bearing age. Jaime already has someone in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the You Win Or You Lose kink meme on LJ.

“No.” Brienne shuts the door in his face.

“Why not?” Jaime asks through the door. There's no answer. He didn't truly expect one. “Think of how proud your father will be.” He's not above using any tricks necessary to get her to say yes.

“Why don't you pick some pretty little girl to wed instead?” She snarls.

Jaime can picture her face even if there is a door between them to keep him from seeing her. Flushed with anger, her mouth curved in confusion, and worry...Worry that he is mocking her now, after everything.

“I don't _want_ some pretty little girl as my wife.” Jaime leans his forehead against the door. “I want someone I can trust at my side and at my back. I want someone who knows what they're doing with a sword, and let's face it, someone who can protect me with it, because I'm not much use at the moment now, am I?”

“Hire a sellsword as a bodyguard then.”

Jaime sniffs. “I hardly think my lord father would approve of me fucking a sellsword. And besides, they're so...” He's still trying to think of the right word when she pulls the door open and he nearly loses his balance. Perhaps she would have liked that, him on his knees, asking for her hand. Both hands. Jaime eyes them enviously.

“Is that what this is?” Brienne asks it impassively. “Your need to fuck?”

“I've been in the Kingsguard since I was seventeen. Nothing is about my need to fuck.”

“But you do have that need.” She presses the issue, while pretending she doesn't care.

“Yes.” Jaime admits.

“And you'd want to?” She looks at him straight on then, waiting.

“Oh.” Jaime says, realizing. “You think I don't want you.”

“I didn't ask that, I asked,”

Jaime steps inside the room, not bothering to close the door. “You think I don't wonder what it'd be like, to fuck a woman as,”

“Don't.” She half turns away, and Jaime catches her jaw with his hand.

“I want you.” He can't say it plainer than that. “I want to fuck you and make you my wife.”

Brienne just stares at him. She can't believe it, so Jaime simply leans up to kiss her mouth. It takes a moment for her to relax, to part her lips and then, she is his. Jaime kisses her slowly, teasing her mouth until she responds, kissing him back. Only then does he break away and grin.

“What,” Brienne breaks off as he goes to his knees before her.

She's dressed in a shirt and breeches, comfortable in man's clothing as ever. He unlaces her breeches awkwardly, but she doesn't help, merely watching him. Jaime pulls them down to her thighs along with her small-clothes, then her ankles until she's half bare. He looks up at her.

“I've wanted to do this for a long, long time.”

She stills at the first touch of his mouth upon her. He would think she'd turned to stone if it weren't for her breathing, harsh and ragged in the silence. Jaime kisses her mound, kisses the pale hair between her legs, and then, slowly, pushes his tongue inside her. His good hand slides over her backside, pushing her closer to his mouth. Brienne sucks in her breath sharply as Jaime fucks her with his tongue.

Jaime loves the way she feels on his tongue, how she tastes and the way her thighs tremble only slightly at his onslaught. Brienne, ever the true knight, even when getting pleasured.

He moves slower as she comes, a cry finally forcing its way from her lips as she does.

Jaime sits back, looking up at her. Her face is flushed, and he stands, awkwardly, grasping her hip for balance. He kisses her, letting her taste herself on him, before pushing her back on the bed, kneeling between her legs. Brienne looks up at him, and her expression is so open, so desirous, Jaime has to look away as he enters her, spreading her thighs. Her hope leaves him uncomfortable, sooner or later she will find him lacking and be disappointed. Technically, she should already be disappointed in him.

Her hands slide over his backside, mirroring his early grasp, only she has two good hands, the better to hold him with. Her hands cup him naturally, and Jaime wants to arch back into her palms, and then thrust into her.

“Would you rather I were on my belly?” She asks the question quietly.

“What?” Jaime stares down at her.

“You looked away.” She flushes redder. “I...could turn over.”

Jaime winces. “No...don't. It wasn't that.” He wants to leave it there, to say no more, so he leans down to kiss her. He starts moving slowly, slowly until she relaxes more and her fingers dig into his backside, asking silently for more. So he moves faster, his hips snapping with each thrust. Brienne pants silently, unwilling to cry out again, and Jaime alters the tilt of his thrusts just so, and then touches her with his hand as well. He wants to hear her sounds, to know he pried them from her lips.

She cries out louder this time and Jaime revels in it as he comes deep inside her.

When he slips out and rolls over on his back, he knows he's smiling. He can't help it.

“The door is open.” Brienne mutters hoarsely.

Jaime raises his head. “So it is. How very observant of you.”

“The entire hall will have heard,” Brienne starts, then bites her lip.

“They will have heard _you_ , you mean.” Jaime grins as he wraps a leg over her. “Now you'll have to marry me, or risk your reputation.”

The shove is sharp and quick and he falls backward on the bed as she stands, pulling her breeches up.

“I don't _have_ to do anything.” Brienne retorts. “My reputation, especially in this regard,” She sends a scathing look a the rumpled bed, “matters very little indeed.”

“It was merely a joke.” Jaime offers weakly.

“It was in poor taste.”

“Well, that's me.” Jaime pushes himself up to sit at the end of the bed. “So, you won't then.” It doesn't matter. He'll....he has no idea what he'll do.

“I'm saying...” Brienne pauses. She finishes lacing up her breeches and straightens her shirt before she turns to face him. “Tell me why, truthfully.”

“My father says I have to marry.” Jaime says simply. That should be enough for anyone with a single wit in their head, and it's enough for Brienne. He cannot marry the woman he's always been with and she knows that.

“So you'd wed to...”

“To have a companion I can talk to, someone to match me in bed, and best me on the field.” He grins crookedly.

“You're getting better.”

“You're still winning.” Jaime's abruptly weary. If she's going to refuse, well, then. He still has some semblance of pride lurking about. He stands.

“All right.” Brienne says roughly.

“All right, _what_?” Jaime's struggling with his own breeches, not looking at her.

“I will. I'll...marry you.”

His hand stills, and he stares at her. “Do you mean that?”

“I've said, haven't I?” Brienne sounds irritable, and he wants to laugh, wants to laugh gloriously at the notion.

“Brienne.”

She stiffens. Their names between them are still new, tender on the tongue.

Jaime reaches for her hand. “I would be most honored for you to be my wife.” He kisses her hand and he means every single word.

All the same he expects her to pull away. When she doesn't, he's surprised.

Instead, she murmurs, “Jaime,” and places her other hand over his.

It's still a rare pleaure to hear his name on her lips. She called him Kingslayer for so long, every time he can wring his name from her lips is a satisfaction Jaime finds it hard to conceal.

“And then there's the little matter of an heir.” Jaime murmurs. Another blonde-haired child running about the place. Why not? If it looks like him, perhaps Cersei will still love it. At least, he hopes she will. There's an ache in his chest there, that he doesn't want to dwell on. She cannot be his wife; it isn't wrong to take another. It isn't wrong.

Brienne pulls away then. “WHAT?”

“Oh, didn't I mention that?” Jaime asks casually. “My father wants an heir.”

He sees the expression on her face and realizes that it's entirely possible he'll get smothered with a pillow on their wedding night.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] To Have and To Hold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11648103) by [BabelGhoti (TheHandmadeTale)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHandmadeTale/pseuds/BabelGhoti)




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